


She's Always Impressed Me

by All_Nighter_Writer



Category: Earth 616, MCU, Marvel, kgb history, red room - Fandom
Genre: Angst, BECAUSE BUCKYNAT SHIPPERS DESERVE IT AFTER ALL THE CANON PAIN, Clint is Deaf, Earth 616 - Freeform, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fighting, Guns, IM UNDOING IT, KGB, Past Stucky, Post CA:WS, Red room history, THE RIGHT FUCKING WAY, Violence, brief clintasha, current samsteve, im rewriting it in this, lucky (pizza dog) - Freeform, mcu - Freeform, non-AOU conforming because fuck that movie, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Nighter_Writer/pseuds/All_Nighter_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has met the Winter Soldier multiple times, and though they did not ever end well, she was left with precious memories of him, compassionate and kind. She will never forget the beautiful smile or the gentle touch. He is one of the only people she will hold close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Myth Proven True

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of compilation of the different times Nat and Bucky met, and will seguay into the plot of CA:WS and beyond, loosely based on comic history.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's mysterious, dangerous, a weapon. Natalia knows this. After all, she is the same. If the Motherland does everything they've promised to the future Black Widow (her. she knows it.), she will be a weapon too.  
> Anything for the sake of the Soviet succession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any typos in this, tell me. I'll try to fix them as soon as possible.

The Asset is being shown the girls who had passed the childhood training. General Karpov wants to maximize their skills, make them the perfect weapon. The girls are waiting for him in the room when he arrives.  
Five women, all at their physical peak, possessing a harsh beauty. Out of all of them, only one does not look afraid.  
Her green eyes shine with curiosity, not fear. Her eyes lock on his metal arm, the blood red star in the center swaying with his strides.

"Ladies! You will be doing brawls with the Asset. Do not go easy on him, do not cry, and most importantly, do not fail." General Karpov commands the women, and they nod in unison.

There are numbers tattooed on their necks, a brand showing their belonging to the Soviet Union.

He choses Number One first. She is a thin girl with perky blonde curls tied back into a bun. Assuming the ready position, he sees her palms shaking, knees weak and ankles feeble. With one strong kick to the side and a resounding crack, she is dragged out of the ring, tears silently streaming down her face. A little part of him feels bad for her, but he dismisses it.

 

Weapons aren't supposed to feel.

Weapons aren't allowed to be human.

 

Number Two comes into the ring next, steadying herself and assuming the ready position, her dark eyes gleaming and black hair bouncing in her ponytail. She had a strong frame, but he can see she has too much pride in her own skills.

 

This must be rectified.

 

She dodges his first swing, attempting to kick his side before he grabs her ankle, twisting it with a horrible crack. She falls to the ground, biting her lip in order to stop tears from falling. Two guards drag her out of the ring, throwing her into another room.  
Number 3 has a muscular form and thick brunette hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her liquid brown eyes churn with the burning desire to win. Assuming the ready position, she raises her fists, waiting for him to attack first. She is impatient.

 

This must be rectified.

 

She throws a sloppy punch at him, and he catches her fist in his metal grip, crushing the bone as she let out a cry of pain. Using her arm as leverage, he flips her into the mat hard enough to crack her spine, paralyzing her. She is dragged into the same room all the other failures were.

Number Four. The girl who shows no fear. She has too much faith in her skill.

 

This must be rectified.

 

He decides to aggravate her by making her wait, and instead goes to Number Five.

 

Weapons aren't supposed to aggravate people.

Weapons aren't supposed to be human, yet it feels so good.

 

Number Five is also insignificant, falling after one punch to the stomach. Granted, it was his metal fist, but she should not be so weak.  
General Karpov looks distraught.

 

For some reason, that amuses the Asset.

 

Number Four takes her time walking into the ring, not breaking eye contact the whole entire time. She ties back her shoulder length red hair and faces him.

"You're the Winter Soldier. They tell us you are a myth.", she comments, circling around him.

He hasn't had anyone make idle conversation with him since--

He can't remember when.

"Yes, I am. And I am not a myth." He stiffly replies, unfamiliar with human interaction.

"I was told these are brawls."

"Yes, that's what they are.", he mechanically replies, uncomfortable with all this talking.

"You don't usually break bones during brawls.", she comments, raising an eyebrow. He looks at her with his frost blue eyes.

"They were too weak. I must weed out the one worthy of becoming the Black Widow." That is his mission. He knows nothing else.

 

She dodges his attempt to kick her, rolling underneath his legs to the other side of the mat. He turns to find her foot slamming into his ribcage.

He knows a kick that strong would have killed any weaker man.

He returns his attention to the task at hand, trying to punch her. She raises up her forearms, wincing from the pain of a clearly broken bone. To her credit, no tears fall from her face. Her green eyes contain a fiery blaze that could roast the earth to a crisp. A kick cracks her ribs and throws her into a corner.

Somehow, she manages to stand, launching her legs around his neck and bringing him down to the ground. He roughly pulls her up, shaking her hand.

From that point on, she always impresses him.


	2. The Only Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loves the Soldier. She is not supposed to, and neither is he, but she cannot help the direction her heart has become set on. They both realize the risks, but in this cold and dismal place, happiness is hard to cultivate, and infinity harder to preserve. They will hold this close to them, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very self indulgent with this, but this is just my interpretation of what went on in a famous panel. I hope you enjoy it.

Natalia Romanova has had many trainers, but the Winter Soldier is her favorite. He doesn't talk much at first, but slowly they make conversation. She explains how she has trouble with English, and he helps her with it.

Over the course of time, he wonders.

Instead of the hard leather grip of a knife, what would her hair feel like in his hands?

Instead of the rough mask, what would her full lips feel like against his mouth?

Instead of a cold gun, what would her flesh feel like in his grip?

All of these questions plague his mind as he sits on the locker room bench after a brawl.

She walks in, still in her workout clothes, her hair in a tight bun.

"Do you often watch people get changed, Romanova?" He smirks, taking off his shirt and throwing it into the laundry basket.

"Only you, comrade." A smile crosses her lips as she sashays towards him, sitting besides him.

Her eyes are focusing on his metal arm, specifically the grafted scarring from where it meets the skin.

Her hand tentatively reaches out towards it. "May I?"

He nods, and she brings a hand up to the scarring.

She is shaking, and he gently grabs her wrist with his human hand, steadying her. "How did you get this?"

"I don't know." It is the truth. He has no idea how he lost his arm.

"Did it hurt?" Her fingers gently brush the skin surrounding the metal, causing nerves to be set off and goosebumps to rise all over him.

Her hand trails up his neck, resting on a scar on his jawline.

"How did that happen?"

He turns, facing her fully.

His answer is the same.

"I don't know."

When she looks up at him, her eyes are misty.

"I'm so sorry for you."

He brings up a hand, brushing gently under her eyes and ghosting over her full lips, wetting his thumb with her saliva. She leans in closer to him, and he reciprocates, gently kissing her.

Natalia's lips are softer than he ever could imagine.

He brings a hand into her tangled crimson locks, clenching it tightly.

Like her lips, it is softer than he could ever anticipate.

She kisses him harder, and though his lips are awkward at first, he gets the hang of it, pulling her closer to him.

Her flesh is the warmest thing he's ever felt in this cold facility.

They pull away, and she looks towards the door. If anyone sees them, they could be sent to Siberia, or worse.

"This will be our secret.", she whispers into his ear, kissing him once more before going back to her chambers.

He dumbly nods, bringing his hand up to where she kissed him.

 

Weapons are not meant to love.

Weapons are not meant to be loved.

 

Yet he is loved, and he loves Natalia like there is no tomorrow.

The next day he is shipped out to Hungary, and he does not see anything of her for three years.


	3. Faulty Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia has a mission. She has completed it, but in the process, become too emotionally attached. This compromises the mission. The Asset must come to pick her up. They have not put him in the metal chair for a long while, so he retains his memory of her. The faulty programming makes her weak. Vulnerable. Human.   
> But can it be possible humanity is a good thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. I haven't had much inspiration lately, but I'm trying and didn't want to give you guys a crappy product. Enjoy! <3

Natalia is a ballerina. Working with the Bolshoi, she cultivates her body to perfection. All the while, spying on a rogue Red Room agent.

Yekaterina Fekete is not escaping the grasp of Department X. Natalia has become her friend, with the help of implanted memories and a believable cover story. Not even she knows what is truth and what is not.

She has almost completed her mission when she breaks down.

 

I am a ballerina--

I am a Black Widow agent.

I am one of 28 ballerinas with the Bolshoi--

I am one of 5 competitors for the title of the elusive Black Widow.

 

She has killed Yekaterina in the woods. Natalia has missed her call in time.

The Asset has been sent out to find her. He does just that.

She's collapsed in the snow, fruitlessly attempting to revive Yekaterina.

It is far too late at this point.

The girl's blood has stained the pure white snow, spreading like watercolor.

Her mink coat is ruined beyond repair, and her shirt that was once a sky blue damp with crimson.

The blue eyes once lit with life stared vacantly up into the sky, dimming further.

Natalia sobs, burying her head in the dead girl's neck, gripping the soft coat tightly. He does not know what to do, but he longs to help her.

This goes against his programming.

 

Weapons do not feel emotion.

Weapons are not capable of feeling emotions.

 

Yet somehow, he feels badly for her, and he wants to help.

But the success of the mission is more important.

The mission is always the thing to prioritize the most of all.

Nourishment can wait.

Hygiene can wait.

Rest can wait.

 

A mission must be taken care of first, at any cost.

 

Natalia is not moving from the dead girl's body.

 

This must be rectified.

 

She does not fight him when he picks her up, carrying her bridal style.

Instead, she stares longingly at the body, as if her emotions could bring the target back to life.

 

Emotions mean nothing.

 

At least that's what's been drilled into his head.

A perfect weapon mustn't have emotions. They compromise the mission at hand.

 

The mission comes before anything else.

 

He sets her down in the shotgun seat of the car he stole, giving her his dark woolen scarf to wear. She grasps it like a lifeline and gulps, eyes still staring at nothingness. He gets into the drivers seat, starting up the vehicle and getting on a backroad.

She turns to him, staring in a state of confusion.

"What am I doing here?" She sounds so small and vulnerable.

"You've completed your mission.", he answers her, trying to sound as gentle as he can.

"What mission? I'm a ballerina with the Bolshoi! I do it to make my parents proud! I-I..." She trails off, realizing that her words do not sound right even to her, furrowing her brows.

"You're the Black Widow. You were trained in the Red Room. You're on a mission to execute Yekaterina Fekete, a rogue Soviet spy.", he slowly and softly restates the facts to her, and she takes in the information, realization hitting her all at once.

Videos of ballerinas run through her head, and she's repeating the moves perfectly.

A man gives a nod of approval, and hands her a file on her target.

She's on a table, various chemicals being injected, heat spreading through her veins, scalding her blood.

She screams against the mask that has been forced on her, writhing and resisting against the leather cuffs holding her wrists and ankles down.

The scientists simply take notes, not doing anything to ease her pain.

 

With a gasp, she returns to reality, trembling like a leaf. She pulls a gun on the Soldier. 

"You were not ever part of this mission. Why the hell are you here?", she hisses at him, glaring. He is wide eyed.

"You missed your call time. I was sent to pick you up."

Despite the gun pointed at his forehead, he sounds calm. She shakily lowers the gun, clasping the sides of her head.

"Did I complete the mission?" Her voice is a whisper, and tears well up in her eyes as she turns towards him.

"Did I?!"

She is scared now.

Gently taking the glock out of her palm, he cups her face gently, and she leans into his touch.

"Yes. You did wonderfully, Red."

He gently kisses her forehead, allowing her to undo her seatbelt and climb over into his lap, and he holds her, firmly and closely.

She turns towards him, nibbling on his jawline. He groans, tilting his head back.

"Did you miss me?", she asks, her voice tinted with the slightest bit of hope. When she doesn't get an immediate response, she drags her teeth over the supple skin of his ear, and his pulse spikes, causing him to grip her more tightly.

"You have no idea..." He groans, leaning down to kiss her.

She gladly reciprocates, forcing her hand into his hair. He never realized just how much he's missed this.

He kisses roughly, and she does the same, moving to straddle him in the scant room the car allows them to have.

She pulls away, sighing wistfully.

"Our superiors will suspect something if we take any longer. We should go now." She smoothly moves to the passenger's seat, buckling herself in.

He has a sour expression on his face. "And just as it was getting good..." He starts up the car, getting onto a partially obscured dirt road and heading back towards civilization.

Natalia is quiet, leaning against the window and looking pensively ahead of her.

She looks like she's about to cry.

"Red? Natalia? You look upset. Is it about the target?", he softly asks the question, as if that would lessen the sting of his words.

On 'target', she snaps her head at him. Tears fill her eyes.

"Katya was more than a target! She was my friend! I-I killed my friend..." She drags her hands down her face, tears spilling from her eyes.

She has gotten too attached, too emotionally involved in her mission.

 

This must be--

 

No. It's a bad idea to tell their superiors about that. They would further dehumanize her, and he does not want to her to be cleansed like he is.

The metal chair is bad.

He gets to a safe house, pulling into the driveway and turning off the car.

She is quietly crying, eyes red and puffy. He never quite noticed how green her eyes are.

He gets her back to the check point and does not mention her breakdown, but instead explains that she was undercover for too long.

 

He is wiped the next day. They say he's been emotionally compromised.

The metal machine goes on for much longer than usual, and the Asset cannot remember anything when he is put in cryo.


	4. Red Stains Everything (And It Is Nearly Impossible To Clean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia has become careless with hiding her relationship with the Asset. She must learn her lesson.  
> Weapons do not love.  
> Weapons are not supposed to love.  
> The Motherland's punishments are... creative. Cruel. Inhumane.  
> If all goes correctly, she will never remember the Asset ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to write! I had a bad case of writers' block and just shook it off.

Natalia is brought back to the base and separated from the Asset. She is taken into General Karpov's office.

Has he found out about her affair?

Will she be punished?

She is nervous, but pushes down the anxiety and appears to be emotionless. She is a master of hiding her feelings for the sake of her job.

"Comrade." She salutes and recieves the same gesture from her superior.

"Sit down, Romanova." He stares at her, his dark eyes piercing through her like a blade, and gesturing to the well-worn leather seat in front of the mahogany desk.

"Yes, Comrade." She sits down and the chair creaks, letting out a high pitched groan.

"You have done well on your mission, Romanova. The others have not been as successful and to put it lightly, have given us somewhat... disappointing results. All except for one." His eyes shine with a darker sort of satisfaction.

"Thank you, Comrade. Who is the other girl?", she meets his eyes, interested in what he has to say. 

 "Her name is Yelena Belova. I want you to train her well, but first, we must improve upon your skills."

 

A dark glimmer in his beady eyes tells her this 'improvement upon her skills' will not be enjoyable.

___

 

Natalia has always had good instincts, and she is right about the process meant to improve her.

 

General Karpov explains that they have known about her affair all along. She is made to see footage of what they did to her precious Soldier. 

 

They put him in a metal chair, wiping his memories. It is horrible to watch, but that's not even the worst part.

They whip him until he bleeds, letting the red further dye the floor a horrible crimson shade.

He screams, pleads, begs them to stop, but that only seems to make the punishment come more harshly.

 

She blinks tears from her eyes as they drag her to the same room, clamping her in the same chair. She knows what will come next, and she tries her hardest to remember.

Blue eyes.

A gentle smile.

Softly curling brown hair.

Blue--

A gen--

So--

 

What was she thinking about?

 

\---

 

She trains Yelena, pushing her to the limit of her strength. She does not know why she does it this way, because she feels sympathy for the way Yelena's body bruises under her kicks.

 

It feels natural, like she was trained in the same way.

 

Natalia's superiors keep her busy, not allowing her time to think. 

 

Eat, sleep, wake up, train Yelena, shower.

 

It is a schedule, and she moves like a robot, going though the motions.

 

Once Yelena is the best she can be, Natalia is sent off to marry the Red Guardian.

. 

Something feels off, and it is boring being a wife. Natalia is meant for something more than cooking and cleaning. She feels it. 

Alexei dies, or so they tell her, so she goes back to serving the Soviet Union. They are happy to have her back.

 

It isn't until years later, when she is made to realize just how much red she has in her ledger. She is brought to SHIELD by a scruffy archer, and he assures her she can redeem herself by helping them.

 

Oh, if only it were that easy.

 

 


	5. Coffee and Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton is the archer's name. He's one of the strangest people Natalia has ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap, I haven't written this in a while!

"Please just cooperate." The archer begins to give up on killing her after she stabs him in the leg. To his credit, he's managed to break a rib. 

Nobody has managed to do that since her Soldier.

She raises an eyebrow, pointing her gun at him. "If you seriously think I want to die, you're dead wrong." He sighs, dropping his weapons. 

"Listen, I won't kill you. I can help you clear your ledger. I was serving a lost cause too." Something in his voice convinces her that he's telling the truth. "Circus of crime. KGB. Both illegal, both bad."

She finally believes him after 3 more reassurances. Both limping, they hobble over to the helicopter SHIELD is picking them up in. 

-

The first thing that she gets is a cup of coffee once they get to the base. The second thing is a solitary cell. She sits on the floor, her weapons confiscated, tapping out a rhythm with her dirty fingernails. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, an aging black man wearing an eyepatch comes in and sits on the bare mattress. She glares at him, clenching her fists.

"If I had things my way, you'd be dead right now. Barton made a different call. I'm fully prepared to plant a bullet in your skull, so don't test me." He's tough. 

She stays silent, but smirks.

Nick Fury could never  _bring himself to harm her._

"Let me guess: you're going to send me to an international penetentiary, and I'll rot there until I bite the dust." Her voice is rough. "That won't work out well for anyone."

"Miss Romanova, do you  _really_ think I don't know that? I've seen your records. Impressive resume."

"I wasn't signing up to work for you."

"Once you can work with Barton, you'll be out in the field. Just trust me on this one."

He leaves the room before she can protest. She grits her teeth, kicking the wood underneath the mattress and splintering it.

 

If only people knew just how much damage she could do to them.


	6. Natasha Romanoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia is a shadow, a piece of her person she would like to leave behind. Natasha- yes, Natasha is a good name. Natasha Romanoff steps away from Natalia Romanova's dead body, driving away and leaving it to freeze in a Russian forest, just like Yekaterina.

Natasha Romanoff. Her new name. She's starting clean, with no intent of ever facing her old demons ever again. She's buried them so deep they'll have no chance of ever escaping their frozen graves.

Clint snaps her out of her thoughts. "Earth to Nat!" They're walking Lucky, Clint's old yellow mutt. 

"I was thinking," she mumbles, sipping her cup of mint tea. 

"You're always thinking, Nat. That's your problem. You never try to live in the moment. Instead, you think about your future or nightmare past." He has a point, but she'd never show him that.

"You don't think at all, Barton. That's your problem." She smirks, sipping her drink as he almost runs into a sign. 

"You think I'm cute because of that don't you?" He gives her puppy dog eyes and she laughs.

Barton was nice, caring, funny and sweet. She liked that about him. It was obvious that he had a crush on her. As much as she liked him back, a little part of her still yearned for her Soldier. He wanted her to be happy. Clint made her happy. Would he tell her she should go for him?

"Endearing, Barton. You're endearing."

He pouts as they enter Central Park, sitting down. "Aw, futz. You're not too bad to look at, either. Am I cute enough for you?" She smiles and draws him in for a kiss, making him let go of Lucky's leash. When she parts, he's grinning like an idiot. "I'll take that as a yes. Aw, Lucky!"

She laughs and watches him chase after his dog in jeans and a purple sweatshirt. He would make her happy.

\---

It only lasts a few months. She can't shake the feeling that something is off about it. It's only on the night they decide to call it off-- she decides to call it off --she figures out she only wanted company. He wasn't the right person. The right person has been long gone since the 60's. 

"Nat, please. Just tell me what went on. I want to understand." He's cupping her cheeks and she's shaking her head, crying.

"N-No! I-I can't!" Her voice breaks and Clint embraces her in a warm, coffee-smelling hug. She sniffles. "H-He worked with me. It was forbidden, but we fell in love. It went on for 2 years before..." She tears up. "They'd known all along. Made me watch as they beat him and- wiped his memory." At this point, she's crying again, chest heaving. "Th-then they did the same to me... Took me years to remember it all. I miss him, Clint. It's my fault he suffered!" 

Clint has no words, but he brings her to bed and tucks her in, cuddling with her and humming a lullaby until they both fall asleep.

She dreams of cold nights and broken headboards, their naked bodies pressing into each other. His metal hand strokes through her fiery curls, and he hums a tune that sounds something like Frank Sinatra. She doesn't care that her bra is hanging off the ceiling fan and her pants have knocked over the vase, with him all is right with the world.


	7. Ghosts of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2009. She's escorting a scientist out of Iran, and she's almost there before he finds her. Oh God--  
> Why won't the past leave her alone?

The scientist is hesitant, and it's starting to get on her nerves.

She's given him very clear instructions: discard of any personal possessions. Yet still, he's looking down at a torn picture of him, a homely looking woman, and 3 happy children. She snatches it, stopping at the side of the road and tearing it apart, dropping the pieces into the Ukrainian ravine. The man is beginning to cry.

"You'll be safe soon, but any personal items are a risk to your safety. I can't do my job if you can't do yours." He nods as she glares, getting back in the car. He wipes his eyes underneath his big, invisibly-rimmed glasses. She continues driving for 30 minutes before the tires pop and they go spinning. She's getting him out of the car before cringing at a pain in her rib. She must have broken it. She hides him, taking out her gun and aiming at their attacker.

Nobody is there.

She looks around, and then she sees a shadow behind her. She turns, shooting the attacker in the arm. 

The bullet riccochets, and she sees a glint of metal. 

No. Anyone but him.

She protects the scientist with her body and feels a sharp pain, spreading over her left hip. She looks down to see her scientist is dead. Collapsing into the ground, she groans before looking up.

He's walking towards her, and shoots the scientist in the head. She stares and he looks back with cold dead eyes. It stays like that for a moment before he leaves, and she's bleeding out. The world fades to black as she hears sirens.

 

Clint waits outside her hospital room, and as soon as he's allowed in, he goes, sitting in the chair next to her bed. She's asleep. Soon she wakes up, looking over at him. 

"...Clint."

"Hey, Nat." He's about to take the report when she grips his wrist.

"No." She croaks, taking it back and changing the details on the attacker. 

"Why?"

"Winter." She groans. He nods, understanding her. 

"I won't tell 'em." She weakly smiles, and he kisses her forehead.

 

She decides to keep the scar. It's a reminder of him, and those are hard to come by these days.


	8. Goose Chases and Dead Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in a long time, Natasha has a chance to maybe, just maybe, find her Soldier. She has no idea how long it will take, or where it will lead her, but she's willing to try anything if it means she'd retrieve him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! School is being really harsh, and it's the last week of the quarter, so my teachers are going insane with work for us to do. I wanted to get something on this story done, it's been nagging at me for a while. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to your comments, I've just been really busy.  
> If there are any translation errors, could someone who actually speaks Russian/learns it correct me? Sorry, I used google translate.

 Clint hands her the packed black suitcase, looking at the SHIELD issued car about to take her to the airport. She takes the bag, straightening her large, dark sunglasses and hugging him.

"Come home soon, alright? You don't want Lucky and I to miss you too much," He mumbles into her shoulder. She smiles.

"Your dog just likes me for food, Clint. You practice the ASL when I'm gone, alright? Don't break your hearing aids." She pulls away, adjusting the light purple devices. Clint gives a crooked grin, and the Hello Kitty band aid on his chin shifts.

"Eh, I'll try." He chuckles at her pointed look. "Fine, I'll do it." With a final kiss to his cheek, she goes to the car, driving silently to the airport and getting on a plane ride to Kiev.

 

Her cover's name is Nadia Raminya, and Natasha decides she likes the character. Nadia is a reporter, always asking the right questions. With one smile and toss of bleach blonde hair, she can coax the truth out of any scheming politician or other authority figure she desires. Her first stop is to Ivan Petrovich's large estate. He's not her Ivan, the one that saved her from the fire, but a son. She's a tiny bit resentful, she'll admit that. 

It's not fair that little Ivan was raised in the lap of luxury while Natalia Romanova was fed to the wolves at the Red Room.

She assumes her cover's temperament, pulling into the long, serpentine driveway and stopping her small car in a designated parking spot. Nadia leaves the car with her purse, a notepad and pen, burner phone, and a cyanide pill in her wallet disguised as a breath mint. With a pleasant smile, Nadia rings the doorbell, and little-- not so little now-- Ivan opens it, leaning on his cane and welcoming her inside.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Petrovich. I'm--"

"Nadia Raminya, I know. I may be old, but my mind hasn't gone awry yet, dorogoy*." She bites back a grimace at the pet name. Ivan would always call her the same thing. She gives a pleasant laugh, shaking his hand.

"Oh, I know. But my employer is very uptight about this kind of thing. She'd kill me if I didn't introduce myself." She shrugs as she walks inside, hanging her pastel purple coat on the dark, polished coat rack. She lets him lead her into the large living room, sitting down on a couch. He sits in the armchair across from her, watching as she takes out her pen and notebook. 

She interviews him about the oil business for about an hour before the situation becomes uncomfortable. His eyes roam over her hungrily. She can't glare at him, then he'd know she wasn't who she had said she was. Nadia was naive and good-tempered. Basically, the complete opposite of Natasha Romanoff. He makes his butler get them drinks, and she can tell from the smell of it that it's drugged. 

Ivan gets a call and leaves the room, and she takes out the cyanide pill, placing it in his drink and quickly dissolving it. The drink doesn't look any different than it did before. When Ivan comes back inside, she says she needs to leave and gets away from the property just in time. The next thing she hears on the news:

OIL TYCOON IVAN PETROVICH COMMITS SUICIDE BY DRUGGING HIS DRINK.

She gives a small smile in the privacy of her hotel room, preparing for picking up some files.

Yelena waits for Natasha in the bar, and once she comes, they act like old friends. They're not really friends, per se. But Natasha trained Yelena and helped her escape, and she's thankful for that. They go to Yelena's penthouse apartment, and she's handed over the files. 

"Do you really want to go looking for him? It's not safe, Nadia." Natasha glares at her.

"I know what I'm doing, Lena. I'll be fine." She tucks away the files, and collects her things. Yelena nods.

"Just... be cautious, Nadia. Please." She nods, leaving the apartment and going back to her hotel.

 

A whole year. 500 acres of land searched. All dead ends. 

She'd found the machines and facilities, but never him. She sadly steps out of the car, pulling her bags along and not even petting Lucky when he runs up to her happily. Clint watches and hugs her when she comes inside, already able to tell she's upset. She allows herself to break down, sobbing.

The rest of the night is quiet, the pair of them and his dog cuddling on the couch.

She still regrets never finding her Soldier.

 

Somewhere in the Russian countryside, a black car transports a gruff man to his handler. The man is confused and stares into the distance. He only responds when Rumlow slaps him, dragging him into the hidden facility and putting him in cryofreeze.

"The Widow never found him?" Alexander Pierce looks at the scared looking man in the metal container. Rumlow nods.

"She came close a couple of times, but she never found him, sir." Rumlow smirks. He had managed to trip up the Black Widow. That meant he was one of the best at what he did. Pierce grins.

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dorogoy- sweetheart


	9. Chapter 9: Cooling Down Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha needs to regain herself, recuperate. She's having a hard time.

Once Natasha is back at Clint’s apartment, she sulks through her recovery. Fury comes to visit a few times, but she never really talks much. She doesn’t feel like it. After that self-proclaimed mission, she’s emotionally drained.

 

Sleep doesn’t come easy either. Everytime she closes her eyes, she sees him in his new uniform; something that gives the impression that he is a wild animal that must be locked up. Maybe he is. Maybe the programming is failing.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s remembering.

 

She’s being too hopeful now. After the torture they put him through, and after all those years of imprisonment, he may well be an empty shell. A robot. A puppet with the most sadistic puppeteers and tightly wound strings.

 

“--Earth to Nat!” Clint snaps his fingers in front of her face and she blinks, coming out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she mutters quietly.

“I was asking if you wanted pizza. Kate is planning on dropping some off.”

“I’m not hungry.” She shakes her head.

“I’ll just tell her to get some for you. You haven’t eaten in a day.” Clint texts Kate the order.

“I’ve gone through worse,” she rolls her eyes and readjusts on the couch to allow Lucky room to curl up next to her.

“I don’t care. You’re going to eat,” Clint tells her.

He’s far too worried about her. Doesn’t he know by now that she can take care of herself? She sighs in defeat and slumps against the pillows, wrapping the large, fluffy, pink blanket around herself. Once Kate comes with the pizza, she begrudgingly eats one slice.

That night, she has a nightmare. No, not a nightmare: a memory.

 

Memories are worse than nightmares because they’re real, and she still bears their scars.

  
She throws up the pizza she ate earlier. After the recollection of her Soldier being tortured and made to forget, it won’t stay down. She tries to go to sleep afterwards, but cannot. She then watches the sunrise, because she has nothing better to do.


	10. Season Shift (Winter Always Returns)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CA:WS from Natasha's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the liberty of going with Sam/Steve because I love them, and the ship is underappreciated.  
> (Maybe because stucky* overrules everything and there's a slight tinge of racism in the fandom when despite canon evidence of interracial relationships, people would rather ship 2 white people together ***JESSICA AND KILGRAVE***)  
> *I don't hate stucky. I just hate that it's so overrated in the fandom and people refuse to accept anything else. Don't yell @ me please.

No. Not again. Not for a second time. She can’t deal with this again, not after Odessa. It’s too tender, too fragile of a topic to even begin to tread on. Now Steve is involved, and she knows he’ll want to have all the information on the Winter Soldier possible. She’s not prepared to give it to him, and she refuses to. At least not all at once. He’ll learn more over time. It takes a stronger bond for her to even begin releasing her secrets. She cannot allow herself to get hurt by being careless with her words.

 

“I know who shot Nick Fury.”

I’ve been shot by the one who shot Nick Fury.

 

“Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. Those that do call him the Winter Soldier.”

I know he exists. I helped him exist.

 

“He shot me too.”

He shot me. He kissed me. He loved me, and guess what? I loved him too.

 

Steve seems satisfied with the answer and lets her go, nodding. “So how do we go about doing this?”

“I’m on it. Follow me.”

 

Pretty soon, they’re at the Apple Store. She quickly diverts the helper and once they have the coordinates, leaves with Steve.

 

She’s never quite realized just how perceptive Steve is. He locates the underground computer and she starts it up. It’s a surprise when Arnim Zola’s pixelated face appears on all three screens. She holds back a sigh of relief when he says her changed birthdate. If Steve knew she was born in the 40’s he’d ask too many questions she’s not prepared to answer.

 

Thank God for Sam Wilson. He’s given them shelter and one hell of a good breakfast. Turns out, he’s got some skills too. Sam Wilson is everything anyone could ever need in their life. Steve is taken by him. After she easily retrieves Sam’s wings, they put their plan into action. It all goes smoothly until he comes back.

 

The steering wheel gets ripped out of the car, and she reaches for her gun, shooting at him.

 

Good try, little Natalia. As if you could beat your mentor.

 

The car gets assaulted from the back and she drops the gun, reaching for it while she makes sure neither Sam nor Steve get shot. The bullets narrowly miss their heads. Steve gets them out of the car and she misses him again, but dives off of the highway and runs underneath the bridge.

 

Look at the shadow, strike when the coast is clear, and always calculate quickly.

 

She hits him in the eye. He’s wearing goggles. If he hadn’t been, there’s no doubt he would’ve been blinded. In retaliation, he fires randomly. She smirks, running away and drawing the attention to herself to protect the civilians. He finds a recording she leaves for Steve and blows it to smithereens. She latches around his throat and perches his shoulders, using a wire to try and choke him. He throws her into a car and she runs even further until she feels a hot pain in her shoulder.

 

If Steve isn’t there to knock the Soldier over, she would have been killed by him. She slowly walks over to where he has left his rocket launcher and takes it, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. He stalls, looking over in confusion at Steve.

 

Boom.

 

He disappears in the smoke left by the explosion she caused and she’s taken by H.Y.D.R.A. guards into the back of a black van. She tries not to groan in pain as Sam and Steve join her, a pair of ridiculously big cuffs around his ankles and wrists. It almost makes her want to laugh.

 

He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

 

“Steve, you look awful. What happened,” Sam asks. Steve is silent. “Man, answer me. I need to know what’s wrong.”

“The Winter Soldier. I know him.” Steve is quiet, and it hurts him to get the words out.

“You can’t possibly know him, Steve,” Natasha weakly retorts, as she’s getting dizzier and nauseous.

“I do. When he took off the mask--” Steve’s voice quavers. “It was Bucky.”

 

Natasha thinks she’s going to throw up. Her lover, her mentor, her Soldier-- No. He can’t possibly be Sergeant James Barnes.

“Steve, Bucky died like 70 years ago. You’ve got to be seeing things,” Sam gently informs Steve. He’s good at that.

“He fell off the train, and we searched for his body for months. I-I never thought… How could he possibly have survived that?” Steve mutters under his breath, confused. It clicks. “Zola. His whole unit was captured in ‘43, and he was experimented on. That must be how he survived…”

“That’s not your fault, Steve.” Her voice is much quieter now, and she closes her eyes wearily. Sam looks over at her wound and turns to one of the guards.

“We need to put pressure on that wound. If we don’t, she’ll bleed out in the--”

The guard activates their taser menacingly. They then take it and use it to render the other guard unconscious. Through her blurry vision, Natasha has never been happier in her life to see Maria Hill.

 

Does anybody ever die? She’s sitting in a chair with a medic putting pressure on her wound, looking over the aging black man in the hospital bed, hooked up to numerous machines to keep him alive, but still demanding the same amount of respect as he does when he’s standing in front of a room of agents directing them where to go. She saw him die in surgery.

 

After seeing her Soldier, it’s easy to believe he survived.

 

She’s told Steve it’s a better idea to wear his tact suit, but he insists upon taking his original outfit to the attack. He wants the Soldier to remember him.

 

“Nat, I can make Bucky remember me!” He buckles the chin strap of his helmet and works on the straps of his leather shield mount.   
“Steve, that’s not Bucky. That’s H.Y.D.R.A.’s weapon. A programmable assassin. I’m sorry about Bucky, but you can’t bring back that man. That man died 70 years ago.” She tries to explain as gently as she can, but it doesn’t get through to Steve. The man is aggravatingly stubborn.

“He’s somewhere in there. I can try to reach him, Nat. I think I can get through to him,” Steve insists. She sighs, rubbing her temples.

“Dammit, Steve! I’m trying to keep you alive! You’re one of the only friends I have! I’ve lost too many people along the way, I can’t afford to lose you too!” The heartfelt exclamation escapes from her before she can bite it back.

Steve softens, and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Do I really mean that much to you?” His voice is gentle, and he tips her head up to look at him.

“Yes, you do. Steve, I can’t lose you.” Her voice cracks and she blinks back tears. He hugs her and she hugs him back. “Please, please, please be careful.”

“When am I not careful?”

“Literally 99% of the time.”

“You make a valid point.”

She pulls away from the hug and fixes his strap that’s come loose.

“Let’s go. I’ll get Sam.” He head towards Sam’s room.

She smiles and heads towards the car to get them into the city. “Hurry up, lovebirds! We don’t have time for you two to make out!” She smirks when she sees the two of them leave the room, faces flushed.

 

The infiltration is easy for her. It’s just like a training routine. She sneaks in and pulls Sharon Carter into the closet where she’s hiding. The woman had been returning to her station.

“Natasha! What’s going on,” Sharon asks, concerned. Natasha covers the other woman’s mouth with her hand.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated by H.Y.D.R.A. for years now. Just trust me on this, okay? It will all get dismantled today. Just know that the S.H.I.E.L.D. we’re taking down isn’t your aunt’s brainchild. It’s a corrupted, infected mess. You understand me?” Her voice is low, and Sharon nods. She looks upset. Incredibly upset. Natasha cannot blame her for it. She removes her hand. “Sorry about jumping you about this. Go. Act like everything is normal. Steve should be on the speakers in 10 minutes.”

She discreetly lets her go and disables the cameras in the ventilation systems, crawling silently through them and getting to the hiding place where she and Clint hide their old spy gear.

She takes the photostatic veil and waits by where the councilwoman will be dropped off. She pulls her into the back of the van she came in and uses a chloroform cloth on her. She takes the woman’s clothes and puts them on, then programs the veil and carefully places that on her face. The wig gets applied and she heads inside with the rest of the Security Council, not without leaving a note to the councilwoman and a spare set of clothes.

Sorry about that. I promise that I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t need to. There’s advil for the post-chloroform migraine and some spare clothes. Again, I apologize.

  * Natasha Romanoff (P.S.- Nice suit! Sorry if it gets ruined. You have a great taste in clothes.)




 

She waits for Steve to announce his speech and watches as all the councilmen turn on Pierce. Once the S.T.R.I.K.E. team comes in, she takes them all down and reveals herself.

“Did I step on your moment,” she smirks.

 

The information is released to the public. Natasha has nothing to hide now.

Twitter is teaming with outraged reactions to H.Y.D.R.A.’s deeds, and also to hers.

 

Not that she’s surprised. She’s horrified by what she’s done too.

 

After a press conference where she is dumbfounded by how the U.S. government can still believe S.H.I.E.L.D. was feeding them legitimate information, she walks out and finds Steve by Fury’s grave.

 

She kisses his cheek and reminds him to take Sam out on a date, and walks off to collect her things and retreat for a while. She’ll go to Clint’s apartment and take refuge there, just until she’s mentally prepared enough to go and make new identities. It would be a nice break from all the chaos.

 

Sometimes she feels like the best company is Lucky, Clint, and her.

 


	11. Winter Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha needs to retreat. She decides to go back to Clint's place to hide.

James Buchanan Barnes. Huh. So the Captain wasn’t lying. 

 

The Winter Soldi-- No, Sergeant James Barnes-- No, Buck-- No. 

 

The man stares at the informational poster in the exhibit, trying to wrap his head around the fact that this unfamiliar, smiling man with life in his eyes was once him. He doesn’t see how it could be possible. 

Smiling was a hard enough task in itself, how could he possibly do it convincingly and easily? He has nothing to smile about. Being on the run is hard enough, but with his puzzle-piece mind his mission is so much harder. He needs to re-become himself.

 

He’s not looking forward to it.

 

He doesn’t notice the woman in the black wig and blue contacts watching him by looking into her phone and fixing her glasses. She blends in well. Too well. 

 

She’s watching him, and even though his face seems neutral enough, the tension in his shoulders and the his tightened jaw indicates his discomfort, his anger, his confusion. Natasha can’t help but feel a little pang of sympathy for her Soldier. She’s felt some of the same emotions at the exhibit. 

 

James. Yasha.

 

There was a reason he chose that name for her to call him by all those years ago, even if he didn’t know it himself. Now, they both finally know why. 

 

He leaves the exhibit after looking around for a while, retreating to an abandoned apartment he’s taken lodging in. Natasha leaves shortly afterwards, and sends Clint a quick warning text that she’s going to move into his apartment for a while while she creates new covers for herself.

  
  


\---

 

It takes her a good 5 hours to get to Clint’s apartment, and she hauls her duffle bag inside with her, surprised at the sight of the living space when she gets inside: it’s clean. 

 

There are no stray pizza boxes lying around, no flannel button downs hanging from the ceiling fan, no coffee stains on the carpet… Did she go into the wrong apartment? 

 

“Clint, where are you?” she shouts as she drops the bag on the floor. 

She gets no response and sees his hearing aids laying on the coffee table in front of the T.V. She sighs, picking up the light purple devices and walking into the hallway, where Lucky is sleeping and Clint is putting on a suit. She walks into the room and taps his shoulder, and he sighs in relief when he sees her. 

 

“How do you tie a tie?” he signs, giving a sheepish smile. She hands him his hearing aids and he puts them in. “I’ve got a date with Laura, the girl in accounting who I accidentally spilled coffee on. I’m taking her to a real fancy place. Ties are part of the dress code. Help?”

 

Natasha smiles as she helps him tie the purple target tie, tightening it around his neck and straightening out his jacket buttons. 

 

“There you go. I told you she was into you. You finally listened.”

“You have more experience with this stuff than I do. I’m sort of dumb when it comes to peoples’ emotions.”

“I know you are, Clint. I’m not that experienced either, just better at picking up social signals. What time are you picking her up?”

“8:00.”

“It’s 7:50 now. Go to her place and pick her up.”

 

Clint leaves the apartment with spring in his step, whistling as he ventures to go pick up his date. Natasha watches with a little smile. She’s glad that he has someone who can love and appreciate him fully, unlike her. She was never good for him. Laura Jacobs is the sweetest woman alive, and can give him all he’s been deprived of. 

 

Lucky wakes up and smells Natasha, and he nuzzles against her leg happily. She scratches the old dog, giving him a small smile. 

“Wanna keep me company, Lucky?” The dog looks up with shining eyes. “I thought so.”

 

She closes the door, and cuddles with the loyal dog all night long.

\---

It’s almost a year later when she gets a text from Steve.

 

I’m in New York. I’ll only be here for a short amount of time, so would you like to get some coffee and catch up? -SR

 

sounds good. where should i meet you? -NR

 

How about at the cafe right next to Stark Tower at 12:00 today? -SR

 

great! see you there. :) -NR

 

She gets up from her bed and takes a quick shower, putting her hair up in a bun and wearing jeans with Clint’s old flannel. She refills Lucky’s bowl and slips out the door, locking it behind her. 

 

Steve is waiting for her at an outside table, signing autographs for young children as she sits across from him. The kids are excited, jumping up and down as they return to their parents. One little girl wearing a martial arts uniform hands her a slip of paper and she signs it, smiling slightly. 

 

“Kick butt in class, okay? Always aim for your partner’s weak spots.” Natasha ruffles the young girl’s naturally frizzy mane.

 

The little girl hugs her and then runs off to her mother, waving as she’s brought to her lesson.

 

“You’re not too bad with kids, Nat,” Steve smiles at her.

“Oh no, I am. I can’t handle them.” She shakes her head, chuckling lowly.

“You just made that little girl’s day.” He nods in the direction the little girl went.

 

The server comes over and hands Steve a mug of black coffee, presenting her with a cup of mint tea. They both thank the worker and Natasha smiles at Steve.

 

“You remembered that I love mint tea.”

“I like to keep a list in my head of who likes what. Makes it easier for choosing Christmas gifts.”

“I was Jewish, Rogers.”

“I know. Bucky was Jewish too, but he still celebrated Christmas with my mom and I.” Steve’s face turns down a little.

“Speaking of Bucky, have you come any closer to finding him?” She speaks more quietly now, sipping her tea. Steve shakes his head.

“No. Sam and I have been chasing lead after lead, but it just…”

“He’s not going to show easily. He’ll be found once he wants to be found.”

 

Steve lifts his head. She sighs, lowering hers.

 

“I’m sorry, Steve. But it’s true.”

“Do you have any idea of where he might be hiding?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in Russia, maybe. But don’t kill yourself looking for him.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll reappear when he wants to reappear. You can’t force him to show his face. I’m sorry, Steve, but it’s true and you know it.”

 

Steve sighs and nods before he tries to lighten the mood.

 

“So, how’s Clint doing?”

She gives a little smile and a shrug, “He’s got a girlfriend that he’s madly in love with, and she’s helping him clean up his lifestyle, really. I haven’t come across any empty six-packs in 6 months, and pizza boxes are always thrown away right after he’s done eating the pie. His clothes are always clean too.”

“Wow! That’s a lot of progress. Has he started consistently remembering his to use his hearing aids?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

 

Steve laughs and smiles. 

 

“Well I wouldn’t expect it to happen all at once.”

“Still. He’s doing well. How are you and Sam?”

“We’re good.”

“Are you dating yet?”

“Nat, no! We’re just friends.”

She shakes her head, “You’re an awful liar, Rogers.”

“Well, he hasn’t asked yet.”

 

She rolls her eyes.

 

“C’mon, Rogers! You’ve got to make a move if that man doesn’t do it himself.”

 

Steve almost chokes on his coffee, and recovers fairly quickly.

 

“I don’t know how to, Nat. I’m hopeless when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

“So is Clint, and he has a girlfriend.”

“Are you saying that I’m worse than Clint when it comes to the romance department?”

“God, no! I’m saying that at least Clint has the guts to try and start a relationship. You’re stupidly brave when it comes to speaking your mind, you always have been. Why can’t you speak your mind about your feelings?”

 

Steve considers her statement, and nods. 

 

“I guess you’re correct.”

“Of course I am, Steve.”

 

A waitress comes by and refills his coffee, but Natasha politely denies any more tea. She raises an eyebrow as Steve sips his drink with furrowed brows.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

He looks up.

 

“I’ll ask Sam out once he gets back from his parents’ house. He’s visiting them before we head to Germany.”

“It’s about time,” she smiles. He smiles back with a shrug.

“I guess I have a habit of waiting too long, don’t I?”

Natasha grins. “At least you can make a joke out of it.”

 

After 30 more minutes of conversation, she pays the bill and kisses Steve’s cheek, turning back towards her apartment and walking back leisurely.

 

She doesn’t notice the man with long, dirty hair and piercing blue eyes watching her as she enters the home.


	12. Stray Cats and Ghost Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes in her Soldier.

James settles down for the night in an alleyway near the apartment Natalia is moving in, curling up and trying to make his large frame shrink. He sees her lights on with the curtains pulled across, and she’s sitting on a chair with a book of some sort. Either way, she isn’t paying attention.

 

Lately, she’s been the only thing on his mind. He trained her. He helped her escape the Red Room. It might just be his puzzled conscious, but he has mental images of them together in bed, and she’s smiling, and calling him a name.

 

Yasha.

 

It’s the Russian version of James, and in his memory, it just sounds so nice rolling off her tongue. He can’t be fully sure that it’s the truth, but he wants it to be, so badly. Now he needs sleep, so he pulls his hood over his head and closes his eyes after one last look into her window.

\---

_ She lays back in bed, her fiery curls surrounding her face like a halo. Her eyes are closed and she breathes calmly in post-coital bliss. He smiles and lays next to her, pulling the blankets up over them. She rolls over onto his chest, looking up at him with content green eyes. _

 

_ “<Yasha?>” she asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm quietness in the room. He looks down at her and runs his fingers through her hair. _

_ “<Yes?>” he responds, pulling her the slightest bit closer. _

_ “<Do you think we’ll get caught?>” His hands stop moving and he looks down at her seriously, frowning. _

_ “<Don’t say things like that, Natalia. I don’t think we’ll get caught if we’re careful, to answer your question.>” _

 

_ Natalia nods, snuggling into him.  _

_ \--- _

He wakes up with a start and sits up, looking around. It’s early in the morning, and the sky is just turning pink. It’s extremely quiet. He leans against the brick wall behind him, catching his breath. 

That dream felt so… so real. But it couldn’t be real. H.Y.D.R.A. must have messed with his memory more than he originally guessed. He starts moving, and walks down to a shadier area to sleep. Suddenly he hears someone being choked behind him, and he turns around to see Natalia crushing Brock Rumlow’s neck with her thighs. His eyes widen and he steps back.

 

“<Run to my house. Enter through the fire escape and stay there,>” she orders, and with a nod, he’s following her instructions. 

 

She manages to knock Rumlow out and take his weapons; a gun, knife, and taser. After slipping a cyanide pill into his throat and seeing it start to fizz, she dumps his body into a dumpster and enters her home once more. She sees that the window is locked once more and Yasha is sitting stiffly on her couch, staring into the distance blankly. He must be dissociating.

“Yasha.”

 

No response from him.

 

“James.”

 

He turns his head to face her, wide-eyed. 

 

“...Natalia.”

“It’s Natasha now.”

“Sorry, Natal-- Natasha.”

“It’s fine, Yasha.”

“James.”

“James. My apologies.”

“‘S fine.”

 

There’s an awkward silence and tension so think it could be cut with a knife.

 

She clears her throat and asks, “Are you hungry?” At the nod of his head, she goes to her kitchen and looks for the most bland product she owns. She doesn’t want to trigger any taste-based memories. 

 

She presents him with a bowl of chicken broth and a glass of water. He nods in thanks and hungrily drinks the water before starting on the broth. 

 

“Slow down. You’re probably malnourished. I don’t want you to get sick. Especially not on my new carpet.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just trying to prevent any accidents.”

 

She takes the bowl and the glass when he finishes, putting it in the sink. 

 

“Go to the bathroom down the hall to your right. There’s a towel, razor, and some shampoo and conditioner. Clean up, you smell like crap.”

 

He silently gets up, walking down the hall mechanically and following her instructions. Before he walks inside the bathroom, he hesitates and turns to see her sitting figure on the couch. He wants to thank her and ask her if his memories are correct. He decides against it and continues into the bathroom, taking a blissfully long, hot shower.

\---

She’s sipping her tea when she hears scratching at her window. With a sigh, she lets in the little black cat inside, watching it hungrily devour the small bowl of kibble and tuna she has on the floor.

 

“You only use me for food, you damn cat.”

 

It ignores her, choosing to eat the food instead.

 

“I’m not going to adopt you, Liho.”

 

The cat looks up with her big, green eyes and mewls quietly.

 

“Eat your food and go to your damn corner.”

 

The cat obeys, curling up on top of the torn blue velvet pillow in the corner of the room.

 

“Liho? Why’d you name the cat after a Slavic demon?” a gruff voice asks her from the shadowy corner of the kitchen. She almost jumps at how quiet he is. He blends in so well.

“It follows me everywhere, that’s why.” She keeps her face neutral as she faces him.

“Then why haven’t you made it go away? You even keep food for it. If you really didn’t like it, you’d have kicked it to the curb a long time ago,” he shrugs.

 

He makes a good point. She does appreciate the company the cat provides.

 

“Sometimes I like company. Rarely, but that damn animal doesn’t give a shit about what I like. Only uses me for food and heat.” 

“Sometimes? I suppose that’s why you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

 

That’s not why she lets him stay in her house. He freed her from the Red Room, gave her the opportunity to have a life and be a person. Giving him shelter is the least she can do to return the favor. 

 

“I keep you around because you don’t bother me. You’re quiet, so I don’t mind having you around.” She tries to sound nonchalant, but she fears that he can see right through her.

 

“I feel like there’s something else in there. I’m not sure, but maybe just a little bit of… a sense of duty?” he shakes his head, scoffing, “What am I saying? You know what? Forget about it. I probably sound really goddamn dumb.” He looks at the clock. “12:00? I should at least try to unscrew my sleep schedule. ‘Night, Natasha.”

 

Before she can say anything, he moves to his room, closing the door. She sits down and takes shaky breaths. He was right. His instincts are too good, and it’s only a matter of time before he figured it all out. 

How would he react? 

Would he be disgusted? 

Happy?

 

Would he still love her?

 

She still loves him. If she’s being completely truthful to herself, she never stopped loving him, even when her memory was wiped. She always felt like something was wrong. 

 

She decides to follow his example and go to sleep, hoping that it will calm her brain down.

  
  
  



	13. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James remembers everything. She's the best part in all of it.

James has been making a lot of progress in the eight months he’s stayed in Natasha’s apartment. She’s glad that he’s becoming himself again. Of course, he’ll never be the same person as he was in the 1940’s or when she knew him in Russia. He’s a combination of both, now. 

Liho enjoys his company. It’s not strange to see him cuddling up with the cat on the couch late at night. 

She takes freelance missions in order to make money while the world recovers from the Ultron Incident, as it’s now being called. Every time she gets hurt on one of the missions, James helps patch her up once she gets back. They’re both comfortable when she’s required to strip in order to get to an injury. Sometimes he’ll go and track down stray H.Y.D.R.A. agents, and if he comes back injured, she will do the same for him. 

Even though she wants him to reconnect with Steve, she won’t push him until he’s comfortable with it. It will take a long time until he’s completely comfortable with that reunion, and she continues to keep him a secret from Steve and Sam, who are still chasing after cold leads. 

 

She isn’t planning on telling Clint about James, but after the archer unexpectedly visits and sees him in the kitchen, he deserves an explanation.

\---

Clint hastily pulls her aside into the bathroom, closing the door after them.

 

“Start explaining. From the beginning.”

 

She sighs and leans against the wall, recounting the last eight months.

 

“I moved in here, and on the seventh night, I saw someone walking down the street and not noticing another person following them. I recognised the pursuer as Rumlow, so I ran out and knocked him out. Then I choked him with a cyanide pill and dumped his body into the nearest dumpster. I saved James and I took him in. This is returning a favor, Clint. He freed me from the Red Room, I saved him from being forced back into H.Y.D.R.A. and now I’m helping him find himself. Are you happy with that explanation?”

 

It’s quiet for a moment before Clint nods and quietly asks, “Does he remember you?”

“Partially. He remembers training me and going on missions with me.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked. I don’t want to trigger anything.”

“What's the worst that happens? He remembers you and you two have enlightening reunion sex?”

 

Her fist flies forward towards his nose before she can stop it, and he stumbles back, holding the bridge of it while groaning in pain.

 

“What the fuck, Nat?! You broke it!”

“Oh, shut up. It's been broken before.” 

 

There’s a venomous tone in her voice.

 

“Listen, I'm sorry, Nat.”

“Don't you ever say anything like that again. I'll get your nose fixed, okay? I'm sorry… It was instinctual.”

 

She quickly sets his nose, and gives him a box of tissues. When she exits the bathroom, James is waiting at the hallway entrance. She continues on her way to the kitchen and washes her hands. Clint's blood comes off easily.

 

“I remember it, Natasha.”

 

She freezes and looks up at him.

 

“I remember all of it. You were the only good part.”

 

He slowly walks towards her as he speaks, a sort of gentleness in his tone of voice. She straightens and moves to dry her hands.

 

“...all of it?”

“All of it.”

 

She walks towards him, taking her time.

 

“Even when we got caught?”

“Especially then.”

 

She finally asks the question that's been gnawing at the back of her mind for months.

 

“Do you still feel the same way about me?”

 

He steps closer to her, and his metal fingers brush her own lightly. She gently holds his hand. 

 

“Of course, little spider. Didn't I promise you that you were the only one for me?”

“I never stopped caring for you, James. Ever.”

 

He can't stop the big smile that comes across his face. His eyes light up and he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek. She absentmindedly leans into his touch, and finally pulls him into a hug.

They hold each other tightly, and Natasha burrows into his chest.

 

“I've missed you, Yasha.”

“You too, Natalia.”

 

She looks up at him and pulls him down for a hard kiss, and he grips her waist securely. His lips are clumsy, but she doesn't care. She's just happy that she's here, now, with him, and finally, her Soldier came home.

\---

10 minutes later Clint texts Laura, staying completely quiet while Natasha and James reconnect physically.

 

HELP ME PLEASE- CB

What's wrong?- LR

IM IN NATS BATHROOM W A BROKEN NOSE AND SHES HAVING LOUD SEX I CAN HEAR EVERYTHING- CB

You can take out your hearing aids. Clint, you're deaf.- LR

oH YEAH I AM THANKS FOR REMINDING ME BABE I LOVE YOUUU- CB

Love you too, Clint <3- LR


End file.
